


A Lesson in Compromise

by DeathBelle



Series: Different Kinds of Dysfunctional [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Banter, Blowjobs, Kissing, M/M, Post-Timeskip, Sexual Content, There's only one way to shut Atsumu up, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: “You don’t have condoms,” repeated Sakusa, his voice as flat as his stare.“I… didn’t think about it?” It was more of a question than a statement, and an absolute lie. Of course Atsumu had thought about it: repeatedly, in great detail, and sometimes with his hand down his pants. He was embarrassed to think about how many times he’d considered going down to the corner store to buy a box, just in case this exact situation happened. But he hadn’t dared to think Sakusa would actually want to sleep with him again – not tonight, maybe not ever – and he hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up only to be disappointed.And he’d thought that if he bought them, Sakusa would somehow know, in that freakily intelligent way of his.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Different Kinds of Dysfunctional [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663360
Comments: 82
Kudos: 1609





	A Lesson in Compromise

On the rare occasion that Atsumu had a weekend all to himself, completely free of matches or practice or any other responsibilities, he liked to spend his time lying in a heap on his couch and doing as little as possible.

But by mid-evening on Saturday he hadn’t even touched his couch, except when he’d yanked the crumpled blanket off the middle cushion to wash it. He’d gotten up early and spent the entire day cleaning his apartment, which no one who’d ever met him would have believed. 

Osamu had called earlier, but hung up immediately when Atsumu told him what he was doing. Atsumu felt the judgment all the way from Hyogo, but he couldn’t care less.

Sakusa was coming over, and that was Atsumu’s single priority.

It took a while, because he hadn’t cleaned a single thing in his apartment since the last time Sakusa had been there. Before that it had been even longer, probably a couple of months. If Sakusa knew how disgusting the place had been pre-cleaning he would’ve never agreed to come over.

But he had agreed –  _ again _ , which meant he really wanted to, and he wasn’t worried about thinking it was a mistake. He’d said that to Atsumu a few weeks ago, when they’d shared an out-of-town hotel room. He’d said doing something more than once meant it was a conscious choice. 

He’d also said that he didn’t know what kind of relationship, if any, he wanted to have with Atsumu.

Atsumu spritzed the couch with a scented disinfectant that had been horrifically expensive. It smelled like fresh laundry, a lot like Sakusa’s gym bag always smelled. 

He’d been trying not to think too much about that conversation. He’d promised Sakusa he would be patient, and he was. He hadn’t brought it up a single time, even if it sometimes kept him awake at night. 

But when Atsumu had asked Sakusa to come over, Sakusa hadn’t even refused several times before giving in, which was his usual process when anyone invited him out. He’d simply said “okay”. Atsumu was optimistic.

He did one last sweep, checking for anything he’d missed. When he was satisfied, he started the shower and cleaned himself just as thoroughly as he’d cleaned the apartment. His hair was still damp when he grabbed his keys and rushed out the door with nearly an hour remaining before Sakusa’s arrival. It was plenty of time for Atsumu to walk a couple of streets over and pick up takeout from the one single restaurant Sakusa had never called disgusting. 

And also plenty of time for Atsumu to get back and fix his hair before Sakusa saw it, because it was currently flopping into his eyes in a way that made him feel like a wet dog. He swiped at it as he crossed the street and grimaced at his reflection in a passing shop window. He’d been so focused on Sakusa coming over that he’d forgotten to do his bi-weekly bleach touchup the night before. It was too late to do anything about that now, but once his hair was styled properly, it would hardly be noticeable.

Besides, Sakusa had never given any indication that he’d noticed a single thing about Atsumu’s appearance. He probably didn’t care, but Atsumu wanted to look good anyway. Not for Sakusa in particular. He didn’t care if Sakusa thought he was attractive or not. It didn’t matter at all.

Except it did; it really, really did.

Atsumu picked up the food, tried not to wonder if anyone in the restaurant was staring at his catastrophic hairstyle, and made his way back to his apartment, the takeout bag swinging from his hand. He hummed to himself as he climbed the stairs, mentally dressing himself in the clothes he’d pre-chosen that morning. Nice, but not too fancy. Kind of casual, but not so much that he would look like a slob. He wondered what Sakusa would wear, if he would go for the same nonchalant-but-still-trying sort of vibe.

He abruptly found out as he turned the corner to find Sakusa standing outside his apartment door, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted as he stared at the door, clearly waiting.

Atsumu came to a dead stop, the takeout bag crinkling in his hand. He stared at Sakusa, then checked over his shoulder, as if he’d accidentally walked into the wrong apartment complex. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Twenty minutes. Atsumu should have twenty minutes to turn himself into an attractive, respectable human being before Sakusa showed up. 

Atsumu glanced away from his phone to find Sakusa watching him, one of his eyebrows quirked.

“Uh.” Atsumu looked down at himself. He’d thrown on a pair of his old Inarizaki shorts and a faded t-shirt for his quick trip out. It wasn’t flattering. Slowly, he raised his head again. “You’re early.”

“You said you weren’t doing anything today,” said Sakusa. “I was hungry so I came over sooner. Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. It’s fine. It’s great.” It was maybe the worst thing that had ever happened. “Let me just, uh… get the door for ya.” Atsumu fished for his keys and struggled with them until Sakusa reached out a hand. Atsumu blinked at it and slowly offered the keys.

“The food,” said Sakusa, his expression flat. “I’ll hold the food.”

“Oh! Right. Here.” Atsumu passed the bag over and sorted through his keyring, hyperaware of Sakusa watching him. He wrangled the door open and stepped back, letting Sakusa enter first. Sakusa did so with only a brief hesitation, pausing on the threshold to scan the inside of the apartment before moving in further. Atsumu waited for Sakusa to take his shoes off before doing the same. He tossed his keys onto the counter as casually as possible and pretended he wasn’t on the brink of panic.

“Go ahead and start eatin’, since you’re hungry,” said Atsumu, backing out of the kitchen as Sakusa put down the food. “I got your favorite from that place you like. Extra soy sauce. I’m gonna go get ready real quick and-”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Huh?”

Sakusa dipped his fingers beneath the strings of his mask and peeled it off. He folded it in half, and then one more time, and tucked it into his pocket. There was a little indentation across the bridge of his nose. “What are you getting ready for?”

“Oh, uh…”  _ For you obviously, I didn’t spend all this time cleanin’ to look like a total slob when you showed up, I want you to think I’m handsome and sexy and-  _ “I just wore this to go to the restaurant. I’m gonna change into somethin’ better. Just gimme five minutes.” 

“The food will get cold.”

“It’ll be fine, Omi. There’s water in the fridge, that brand with the fancy label you always get. Some other stuff, too. Grab whatever ya want.”

“Miya.”

Atsumu stopped in the doorway of his bedroom, his head slightly down. He wondered if Sakusa had noticed the absolute disarray of his hair. It was probably even worse now that it was dry. “What?”

“Get your ass over here and eat. I don’t care what you’re wearing.”

Atsumu turned back, but Sakusa was already plucking takeout containers out of the bag, lining them up neatly at the edge of the counter. Sakusa hadn’t dressed up, not really, but he looked much better than Atsumu. His jeans were nice and his shirt had buttons and his hair didn’t look like he’d gotten caught in a high-intensity windstorm. 

Atsumu hesitated. He chewed at the edge of his lip and watched Sakusa unpack two pairs of chopsticks, placing them neatly on top of the food containers. 

“Do you have plates,” asked Sakusa, “or do you eat straight out of the carton like a heathen?”

Atsumu pushed a hand through his hair – it was a messy wave across his forehead and he hated it – and sighed. “Yeah, I’ve got plates.” He reluctantly returned to the kitchen and stepped around Sakusa to yank open a cabinet.

Five minutes later they were on Atsumu’s couch after a few snide comments from Sakusa about Atsumu’s lack of a proper dining area. Atsumu sat cross-legged, side-eyeing Sakusa every few seconds, and Sakusa spread a napkin across his lap before finally starting on his food. He seemed relaxed, and hadn’t even frowned at the couch for a solid thirty seconds before sitting on it like he’d done the last time.

Atsumu tossed the hair away from his eyes and blinked a few strands out of his lashes. “How’s the food, Omi-kun?”

“Fine.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Fine or good?”

Sakusa took another bite, hesitated. “It’s good.”

Atsumu smiled to himself and shoveled a messy clump of noodles into his mouth. There was a cheer through the speakers of his television, and Atsumu spared it a perfunctory glance. He’d turned on their most recent match, just to have some background noise. Also he’d made some excellent plays and wanted Sakusa to notice.

“So.” Atsumu looked at Sakusa again. “What’ve you been doin’ today?”

“Cleaning,” said Sakusa. “The same as you, apparently.”

“What? No way, my apartment is always this clean. Didn’t hafta do a thing.”

Sakusa gave him a flat look.

“Okay, maybe I cleaned up a little,” said Atsumu, scooping up another mouthful.

“It smells like cleaning products.”

“So what? You like cleanin’ products.”

Sakusa didn’t argue. He took another delicate bite of his food. Atsumu watched the way his jaw moved as he chewed. 

The collar of Sakusa’s shirt was pressed, the sleeves were neatly folded up to his elbows, and his hair fell perfectly into place. He looked like he was having a quick meal before an important photo op. 

Atsumu looked like he’d crawled out of a dumpster.

He frowned down at his food and scraped up another bite, not because he was hungry, but because he didn’t want Sakusa to think he was acting weird.

Two minutes later Sakusa said, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothin’, why?”

Sakusa squinted at him but didn’t answer. 

“You finished?” asked Atsumu, nodding at Sakusa’s empty plate. “Here, I’ll take that to the sink. Want anything else?”

“No. Thanks.”

Atsumu heaved himself upright and carried the dishes into the kitchen. He rinsed them off, stacked them, and wandered awkwardly toward his bedroom door as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel. “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Be back in a minute, alright?”

Sakusa’s eyes went narrow, but before he had time to respond, Atsumu ducked into the bedroom. He crossed the plush carpet in a few long strides and shouldered open the bathroom door. His clothes were neatly folded on the edge of the sink, waiting.

It would be obvious if he changed now. Sakusa would know Atsumu was self-conscious about his appearance, and that wasn’t the kind of impression he wanted to give.

But he also didn’t want Sakusa to think his usual style was old sports shorts and a stretched-out t-shirt.

Atsumu pushed his hands through his hair, engaged in a heated internal debate. He let his arms fall back to his sides and his vision was immediately edged with messy blond hair.

The clothes could wait. This was more important.

He flipped on the lights above the mirror and cringed at his reflection. He couldn’t believe he’d actually let Sakusa see him like this. Next time – if there even  _ was _ a next time – he would be ready two hours early, just in case.

Atsumu grabbed the jar of hair gel on the counter, wrenched off the lid, and froze when a voice behind him said, “What are you doing?”

Atsumu turned slowly. Sakusa stood in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, watching Atsumu with obvious skepticism.

“Uh.” Atsumu looked from Sakusa to the hair gel and back again. “Nothin’?”

Sakusa’s eyebrows cut into a slight scowl. “I came over to spend time with you, not to sit alone while you preen. Get back in here.”

Atsumu blinked. He thought over those words a few times, in case he’d misunderstood. “You want to spend time with me?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“Free food?”

Sakusa’s glare was withering. He turned away and Atsumu slapped the lid back on the hair gel to follow him. As Sakusa passed through the bedroom –  _ Sakusa was in his bedroom _ – he grazed his fingertips along the duvet that Atsumu had meticulously smoothed the wrinkles out of earlier that day. 

Atsumu swallowed, touched his hair one more time, and trailed after Sakusa. Instead of sitting on the far end of the couch, like he had while they’d eaten, Sakusa dropped onto the middle cushion. That’s where he’d sat last time he’d been there, when they’d kissed.

Maybe Sakusa wanted to kiss again.

Atsumu really, really hoped Sakusa wanted to kiss again.

“It was a good match,” said Sakusa, after Atsumu had carefully resumed his seat, taking care to keep a safe amount of distance between them. “The Hornets played well.”

“They weren’t awful,” scoffed Atsumu. “Lotsa room for improvement, though. They’re not as good as some of the other teams. Paper Mills would stomp ‘em. Falcons, too. They didn’t stand a chance against us.”

On the tv screen Atsumu sent a toss sailing across the court, and Sakusa slammed it over the net. There was only the sound of the sportscasters’ commentary, but Atsumu knew he’d yelled  _ Omi-kun! _ just before sending the ball.

“Don’t get too cocky, Miya.”

“It’s not bein’ cocky if it’s the truth, and it is. We’re the best team in the league, hands down.”

Sakusa hummed, but didn’t otherwise comment. They fell into a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. Atsumu watched the game, but considering he’d already lived it in person, his attention was primarily on Sakusa.

“You did good in this game, Omi,” said Atsumu. He watched Sakusa without turning his head. “The spin you put on your spikes was extra nasty.”

Sakusa made a face, his nose scrunching slightly. “You need to learn how to give a compliment, Miya.”

“That was a great compliment!”

“You could just say my spikes were good.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Sakusa tossed a long-suffering glance up at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “You’re insufferable.”

Atsumu grinned. “Aww, thanks, Omi-kun.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure it was. I heard it in your tone.”

Another set drizzled by. The Jackals took it, but not as easily as the first. They’d fought harder and harder as the game wore on. Toward the end, the Hornets had racked up point after point, and Atsumu had been worried they would pull ahead. But his teammates came through in the end. They always did.

“Miya.”

Atsumu really wished Sakusa would call him by his given name like everyone else. “What?”

“How do you know which brand of water I buy? I never told you.”

Atsumu shrugged. “You have one of those bottles in your hand every time I see ya. It’s not a secret. You should start gettin’ royalties, as much as you walk around doin’ free advertisin’.”

Sakusa stared at him, long enough that Atsumu shifted self-consciously under the attention. Why was Sakusa looking at him like that? Was it his hair? It must have been his hair. Atsumu couldn’t believe he hadn’t fixed it before he left the apartment. Normally he wouldn’t be caught dead out in public like this, even to get takeout, but he’d made the food a priority so it would be waiting for Sakusa when he arrived. That had been a stupid choice. Atsumu should’ve gotten himself together first. Maybe Sakusa would’ve had to wait outside his door for a few extra minutes, but that was preferred to looking like  _ this _ and having Sakusa look at him like  _ that _ and-

“You look younger like this,” said Sakusa thoughtfully. “Sort of like you did in high school.”

Atsumu’s chest seized at the softness of Sakusa’s tone. That wasn’t the insult he’d been waiting for, not even close. “You remember what I looked like in high school? Lame, Omi-kun. Guess you were into me back then, huh?”

“No. I thought you were annoying. I still think that.” He nodded toward the wall, where a group picture of Inarizaki was framed. Atsumu and Osamu were in the middle, arms around each other, grinning like fools. “I can’t forget what you were like then when it’s right in front of me.”

“Oh. Right.” Atsumu had forgotten the picture was even there. For a minute he’d thought maybe Sakusa had been interested in him back then, because he’d certainly been interested in Sakusa. Not the way he was now, exactly, but he’d paid more attention to him than he did most other rival players. 

A few seconds passed. They felt tense, but that was probably just Atsumu. He was thinking about this too hard. He needed to sit back and chill and-

“Stop it.” Sakusa grabbed Atsumu’s wrist, and Atsumu realized only then that he’d been fidgeting with the fall of hair in his face.

Then he realized Sakusa’s cool fingers were looped around his wrist and he stopped breathing.

“There’s nothing wrong with your hair,” said Sakusa. “Don’t be so pretentious.”

Atsumu stared at him until Sakusa released his wrist and withdrew his hand. He kept staring, and tried to force his tone into something teasing as he said, “Nothin’ wrong with it? You sayin’ I look good, Omi-Omi?”

Sakusa’s mouth was a flat line. He considered, and said, “I’m saying you don’t look as awful as you seem to think you do. You don’t have to put extra effort into your appearance just because I’m here.”

Atsumu tried to think of something snarky to say, something edged with sarcasm that would make Sakusa roll his eyes or snap back at him. But when he opened his mouth, it was with a much more genuine, “I just don’t want ya to think I look gross.”

Sakusa said, “You’re not gross. Clearly you showered before I came over. You smell clean.”

_ Sakusa doesn’t think he’s gross _ .

Atsumu shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. You look fine, Miya. You always do.”

Atsumu’s heart skipped a beat, maybe two. Not only did Sakusa think he’s not gross, but he thought Atsumu always looked  _ fine _ . Which wasn’t much of a compliment objectively, but it was from Sakusa.

“Thanks,” said Atsumu, the word leaving him on a low exhale. He reconsidered, and added, “So ya think I’m sexy, huh?”

Sakusa’s lip curled and Atsumu laughed, just as another cheer erupted from the television.

“I’m kiddin’,” said Atsumu. He pulled one knee onto the couch and shifted to face Sakusa. “So, uh. You wanna kiss or somethin’?”

Sakusa’s face returned to neutral. He tilted his head, just slightly, and said, “Why?”

It was a question, but underneath it, Atsumu heard  _ yes _ .

“’Cause I want to,” said Atsumu. He tossed his head to clear the hair out of his eyes. It fell right back. “Don’t you?”

Sakusa didn’t look away. Atsumu’s apartment wasn’t very well-lit, and it made Sakusa’s eyes even darker than usual. Atsumu knew from personal experience that they weren’t completely black, the way they appeared right now. They were a few shades lighter, with subtle traces of hazel that were almost gold.

“Okay,” said Sakusa. A collective shout from the audience filtered through the tv speakers. It was probably the moment that Bokuto had dived for the ball and plowed into a referee, but Atsumu didn’t look away to check. Sakusa leaned a little closer and stopped. “Don’t-”

“I know, Omi.” Atsumu said it quietly. “Ya don’t have to tell me every time. I won’t until you say I can.”

Sakusa glanced down at Atsumu’s mouth, so quickly that it may not have even happened. “What if I never do?”

Atsumu shrugged one shoulder. He licked his lips. Sakusa definitely looked that time. “I guess I’ll never touch ya then.”

Sakusa eased a little closer. His breath touched Atsumu’s mouth. “Are you okay with that?”

“I toldja already. I’ll take whatever you’re willin’ to give me.”

“You should set higher standards for yourself.”

Atsumu huffed a breath. He wondered if Sakusa felt it. “Believe me, Omi. My standards are real high.”

Sakusa frowned, just slightly, but didn’t respond. His eyes fluttered half-shut and Atsumu was fixated on the dark sweep of his lashes. Then Sakusa kissed him, and Atsumu fixated on that instead.

Atsumu remembered the first time they’d kissed on this couch. They’d both been wary, and Sakusa had seemed almost reluctant. 

But there was nothing reluctant about the way he kissed Atsumu now, a brush of lips that gave way to a press of his mouth, his breath hot on Atsumu’s cheek as he exhaled. Atsumu balled one hand into the leg of his own shorts, braced his other arm against the back of the couch, and tilted his head to kiss Sakusa more deeply. He flicked his tongue against Sakusa’s bottom lip, half-expecting him to recoil. But Sakusa licked against him - the corner of his mouth and then past his parted lips - and Atsumu dug his nails into his own thigh so he wouldn’t whine.

Sakusa was kissing him.  _ Really _ kissing him. 

Sakusa’s tongue curled in Atsumu’s mouth and a hand touched Atsumu’s neck, settling carefully until there was a full palmprint, the heel of Sakusa’s hand touching his throat. Sakusa pulled away, took a breath, and then he was back, his hand sliding up until his fingers curled in the back of Atsumu’s hair.

Atsumu kissed him back, tried to keep up, but he was almost positive that he was on the verge of self-combustion. 

When Sakusa leaned back, a low flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, it was almost a mercy. Atsumu didn’t know how much longer he could’ve survived, although he still wished Sakusa hadn’t stopped. He would’ve happily died like that. Atsumu realized he’d stopped breathing sometime over the past few minutes and sucked in a lungful of air.

“You’re red,” said Sakusa, matter-of-fact. His fingers were still tangled in Atsumu’s hair, and he slid them out far enough to touch his thumb to Atsumu’s cheek.

That only made Atsumu’s face burn hotter. “Yeah, well, whataya expect to happen when you kiss me like that? You could warn a guy.”

“You literally asked for it.”

“I know,” said Atsumu. Sakusa’s hand was still on his face. Atsumu leaned into it, just slightly. “Just didn’t expect it to be like  _ that _ . You stepped up your game, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa gave an eye roll that was almost gentle, compared to the usual ones. He sat back and his hand fell away, curling into a half-fist before settling neatly onto his lap. He returned his attention to the tv with a slight frown.

Atsumu should have done the same, but he couldn’t stop staring at Sakusa. He was warm to the point of overheating. Sakusa’s tongue had been in his mouth. He’d never thought he would get this far.

“Why are you looking at me?” asked Sakusa, without turning his head.

“’Cause I like you,” said Atsumu without hesitation. If he’d taken a moment to consider he would’ve said something else, something ingenuine and slightly sarcastic, but his brain was absolutely fried. “I like you a lot.”

Sakusa glanced at him and away again. “I will again say that you should have higher standards.”

“You kiddin’?” said Atsumu. He relaxed back against the couch, his face still warm. He tugged at the leg of his shorts and hoped the slight tenting in the front of them wasn’t noticeable. “There’s no higher standard than you, Omi.”

Sakusa’s frown pulled a little deeper. Atsumu wondered if he shouldn’t have said that, if maybe Sakusa had taken it the wrong way. Atsumu had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but he’d desperately been trying not to do that with Sakusa. He was afraid that one careless word would scare him away for good.

“I like your duvet,” said Sakusa.

Atsumu blinked. “Uh… what?”

“Your duvet,” repeated Sakusa, as if it was a normal thing to say. “On the bed.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks?” 

Sakusa’s attention remained on the tv. “Can I look at it again?”

“I guess so.” 

Sakusa rose, took two steps toward the bedroom door, and stopped. He turned his head enough to speak over his shoulder but not enough to look back. “Will you show it to me?”

Atsumu raised a skeptical eyebrow. The bed was literally three steps through the door. Sakusa had already gone in uninvited, he shouldn’t have any reservations about it now. He started to protest, but Sakusa jerked his head toward the open doorway, a silent demand. Atsumu huffed and pushed himself off of the couch to lead the way.

“It’s real far, don’t want ya to get lost,” he said, as he stepped through the door and slapped on the lights. His bedroom was simple, decorated only with a handful of volleyball posters (exclusively MSBY, of course; no other team deserved to paper his walls) and a few trophies proudly displayed on top of the wardrobe. One of them was the best setter award from high school. Sakusa had been at the ceremony with Itachiyama when Atsumu had received it. He wondered if Sakusa remembered.

Before he could ask, Sakusa moved past him and halted at the side of the bed, reaching out to touch the duvet. He seemed to consider it, then sat on the edge, back straight, hands resting on either side of his thighs, head tilted up to watch Atsumu.

“My mom bought that for me when I moved, but I can ask her where she got it, if ya like it that much,” said Atsumu.

He realized ten seconds later, when Sakusa fixed him with the flattest expression that could be made with a human face, how stupid that had been.

“…oh.” Atsumu’s face went warm again; maybe from embarrassment, but probably from something else. “You’re not… you don’t actually like the duvet.”

“It’s cheap,” said Sakusa. “No offense to your mother.”

“Yeah, she’s always loved a good bargain,” said Atsumu, because he was too dumb to stop talking. He tried. He really did. But his mouth kept going and he continued, “She clips coupons and shit like that. One time she got a whole fridge fulla food for like eight thousand yen. She brags about it all the time.”

“Miya.”

Atsumu was quietly relieved that Sakusa had interrupted him. “Yeah?”

Sakusa moved his hands slightly behind himself and leaned his weight on them. “Do you have condoms?”

Atsumu’s brain burst into all-consuming white noise. He blinked, slowly, and glanced around the room, as if a condom would suddenly spring out at him. When he returned his attention to Sakusa, his mouth was dry.

Sakusa wanted to have sex with him. Voluntarily. In Atsumu’s bed.

Atsumu felt like his brain stem had been snipped clean in half. He couldn’t form a fluent thought to save his life.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Sakusa said, “If you’d rather not-”

“No!” Atsumu’s voice returned to him all at once. “No, I’d rather. I do. Want to, I mean. If that’s what you’re askin’.”

Sakusa looked like he was trying to explain a simple math problem to a toddler. “What else would I be asking?”

“I dunno. But yeah, of course. Yeah.” Except there wasn’t a single condom in that apartment, and although Atsumu had a nearly insatiable urge to search every square inch of it, he knew he would find nothing. “But, uh… I don’t exactly have any. Condoms.”

“You don’t have condoms,” repeated Sakusa, his voice as flat as his stare.

“I… didn’t think about it?” It was more of a question than a statement, and an absolute lie. Of course Atsumu had thought about it: repeatedly, in great detail, and sometimes with his hand down his pants. He was embarrassed to think about how many times he’d considered going down to the corner store to buy a box, just in case this exact situation happened. But he hadn’t dared to think Sakusa would actually want to sleep with him again – not tonight, maybe not ever – and he hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up only to be disappointed.

And he’d thought that if he bought them, Sakusa would somehow know, in that freakily intelligent way of his. He would know, and he would be disgusted. 

“You didn’t think about it,” said Sakusa, skeptical. 

“It’s not like I sit around thinkin’ about sex all the time!” said Atsumu, defensive. “I have a busy life, ya know!”

“Yes, I know. We have the same schedule.”

“Why didn’t you get some on your way over, if you knew we were gonna…?” Atsumu couldn’t finish the question. He was afraid if he said it out loud, Sakusa would suddenly change his mind. He might change his mind anyway, since Atsumu was too stupid to prepare for this. 

“You invited me over,” said Sakusa. “You’re the host. It’s common courtesy that you should provide these kinds of things.”

Atsumu gaped at him. “The fuck kinda rule is that?”

“It’s universal knowledge.”

“No, it’s  _ not _ .” Atsumu wanted to continue arguing, but forced himself to focus. That wasn’t important right now. They could have a conversation about Sakusa’s ridiculous social protocols later. “I didn’t think you’d wanna… ya know. Do that.”

“If you don’t want to, just say so. I won’t be offended.”

Atsumu gave a single short bark of laughter. “C’mon, Omi-kun, I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I want to.” He licked his lips and glanced around the room, as if a stray condom would materialize from thin air. He looked back at Sakusa and said, hesitant, “Y’know… We don’t  _ have _ to use one, I don’t mind if-”

“Absolutely not.”

Atsumu had expected that. He wasn’t even offended. “Right. Gotcha. If you wanna wait like ten minutes I’ll run out and-”

“Forget about it,” said Sakusa. He smoothed a hand over the duvet, as if he was either appreciating it or judging the lack of quality. “Some other time, maybe.” 

He started to stand, but before he’d even shifted his weight, Atsumu said, “Stop. Hold up a second.”

Sakusa did, one of his eyebrows rising. “What.”

Atsumu eased a step closer, then another one. He stopped just in front of Sakusa, chin tucked toward his chest to look down at him. Sakusa held his stare, those dark eyes like twin pits. Slowly, Atsumu sank to his knees on the floor, his tongue touching his bottom lip as he tilted his head to hold the eye contact. He wanted to rest his hands on Sakusa’s knees, but clasped them safely in his own lap instead. “Sorry I didn’t get condoms. Let me make it up to ya.”

Sakusa’s expression was stone. It gave away nothing.

But that was fine, because Atsumu knew Sakusa would have put a stop to this already if he wasn’t interested. 

Atsumu shuffled a little closer. Sakusa spread his knees to make room for him. 

Atsumu said, “You’ll hafta get it out for me. So I won’t touch you.”

Sakusa didn’t move. “How do you think you’ll accomplish this without skin contact?”

“I don’t,” said Atsumu, “but it’ll only be my mouth, and you don’t seem to have a problem with that. Your tongue was down my throat five minutes ago.”

Sakusa’s squint was almost sharp enough to be a glare. Atsumu grinned up at him and licked his bottom lip again, slowly. 

“I’ll make it good for ya,” said Atsumu, his voice pitching lower. “Promise.”

Sakusa considered him. His face gave nothing away, but that was fine.

He was about to agree. Atsumu knew it, and his cock gave a little jolt at the thought of it.

“If you bite me, I’m done with you,” said Sakusa. He still didn’t move.

Atsumu blinked. “Why would I bite you?”

“It seems like something you would do.”

“I’m not gonna bite you, Omi. Geez. Just get your dick out.”

Sakusa’s nose crinkled, probably at the crudeness. He sat up a little straighter, still looking at Atsumu, and peeled a hand away from the duvet to touch the button of his jeans. He lingered there, motionless, and finally said, “Are you sure about this?”

Atsumu wanted to bash his own head into the nearest wall. He took a breath and said, “Yes. I’m sure. I’m more sure than anyone has ever been about anything.”

Still, Sakusa hesitated. Atsumu didn’t understand why until Sakusa said, quietly, “I can’t return the favor afterward.”

That thought hadn’t even crossed Atsumu’s mind. It barely registered now, because it wasn’t important. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t have to. I wanna do this because I want to, not ‘cause I think I’m gonna get somethin’ in return. You’re overthinkin’ it, Omi.”

Sakusa released a quiet breath through his nose. He glanced down, where his hand still lingered at the front of his jeans, and murmured, “I do that sometimes.” 

That might have been the most personal thing Sakusa had ever said about himself, at least when Atsumu was around. Atsumu sat back on his heels, thinking that over, but Sakusa was unzipping his jeans before Atsumu had time to come up with a response.

Sakusa shifted his weight into his heels and lifted himself high enough to push his jeans down to his thighs. His underwear didn’t go with them. They stayed snugly in place, and they were plain black boxer briefs, but still somehow the sexiest thing Atsumu had ever seen.

So slowly that it almost caused Atsumu physical pain, Sakusa reached into the front of his underwear and pulled out his cock. It fell limp against his thigh, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Atsumu leaned closer, mouth already half-open, but Sakusa said, “Wait.”

Atsumu did, and hoped Sakusa could feel the impatience radiating off of him.

“Put your hands behind your back,” said Sakusa.

“Why? I said I’m not gonna touch you. I mean it.”

“Do it.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes and did as he was told. “Like I said before, I think you really just get off on tellin’ me what to do. Which is fine, I guess.” He tilted his head up with a grin. “I don’t mind takin’ orders.”

Sakusa’s stare was pitch, unwavering, as he said, “Then stop talking and suck my dick.”

Atsumu’s cock throbbed, caught in the taut stretch of his shorts. He blinked up at Sakusa. “Oh. Damn. That was kinda hot.”

“Miya.”

“Right. Yeah.” Atsumu clasped his hands tighter against his lower back, spread his knees for stability, and leaned in to lick along the length of Sakusa’s cock. Sakusa exhaled, softly enough that Atsumu barely heard the hitch of it.

But he did. He heard it, and he wondered if he could drag a sound out of Sakusa, even a small one. 

Atsumu curled his tongue around the head, traced up and down the length, and carefully took it into his mouth. He sucked gently, cradling Sakusa’s cock with his tongue as it swelled. It grew hot and heavy in his mouth, and Atsumu swallowed down a whine as he took it deeper. He sank down until it nudged at the back of his throat, until his mouth was so full that he could hardly breathe around it. Then he took a little more, and his throat went tight as he struggled not to gag. 

Fingers twisted in his hair and pulled him back. Atsumu sucked his way off and caught a lungful of air, tipping his head back to look up at Sakusa. “What’s wrong?”

Sakusa’s eyes were dark, and the flush that he’d worn after they kissed was back, brighter. “You don’t have to do that.”

Atsumu blinked. “What?”

“Choke yourself on my dick. We’re not filming a porn, Miya.”

Atsumu licked his lips. He was still nestled so closely between Sakusa’s thighs that the tip of his tongue flicked against Sakusa’s cock. “You watch porn?”

Sakusa yanked him further back, hand still tight in Atsumu’s hair.

“Okay, okay.” Atsumu teetered on his knees and regained his balance without unclasping his hands. “Got it. Lemme go.”

Sakusa squinted at him, visibly skeptical, but he released his grip in Atsumu’s hair. 

Atsumu shuffled a little closer, readjusted his hands behind his back, and leaned in again. Sakusa’s cock was already spit-slick, so the slide was easier as Atsumu sank onto it. He took it as far as he was comfortable – almost to the back of his throat, but not quite – hollowed his cheeks, and sucked up to the tip again. He tilted his head to look up at Sakusa, the head of his cock still caught between Atsumu’s lips. Sakusa’s mouth was slightly open, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed.

He was gorgeous.

Atsumu didn’t know how he was lucky enough to end up here, kneeling between Sakusa’s knees with a mouthful of his cock, but clearly he’d done something right in his life. He sank down again, and was distantly grateful that his mouth was occupied, because he was certain he would have said something stupid. 

Sakusa exhaled as Atsumu sucked up and down and up again. It was a quiet breath with the slightest hint of voice, a whisper of a moan that sent a spike of arousal straight to Atsumu’s dick. He was already hard, straining against the front of his shorts, hips giving a weak thrust against nothing. Atsumu sucked Sakusa down further, and the moan caught in his own throat was louder than Sakusa’s had been. Atsumu slipped one hand from behind his back, slowly, and palmed himself through his shorts. It helped, but only a little.

“Miya.”

Atsumu hummed in response, still working at Sakusa’s cock.

“I told you to keep your hands behind your back.”

Atsumu pulled off, swallowed, and looked up at Sakusa with a smear of saliva at the corner of his mouth. His breath came shallow, and his dick was hot under his hand. “C’mon, Omi. I’m dyin’ here. Just let me-”

“No.”

“Omi-kun-”

Sakusa’s fingers threaded through Atsumu’s hair again, gentle at first, but curling into a grip that forced Atsumu’s head further back. Atsumu’s cock twitched against the heel of his hand. “Hands behind your back, Miya. Do it.”

Atsumu clenched his hands together at the base of his spine and commanded himself not to come. It was a near miss. The tone of Sakusa’s voice alone would have been enough to get him off.

“Okay,” said Atsumu weakly. “Okay. Whatever ya say.”

Sakusa’s stare was heavy. He guided Atsumu closer, hand still tight in his hair. 

Atsumu didn’t need further instruction. He opened his mouth and swallowed down Sakusa’s cock. It leaked on his tongue and he licked at the tip, savoring the taste, trying to draw out more. 

Sakusa’s hips jerked, just barely, and Atsumu whined.

“It must be killing you, not talking for so long,” said Sakusa. His voice was deeper than usual, a little rough around the edges. “I might like you better like this.”

Atsumu looked up at him and licked a long, wet stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. “You like me all the time, Omi. If ya didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.” He grinned, just for a second, before sucking Sakusa’s cock into his mouth again. Sakusa’s hips gave another jolt, and so did Atsumu’s, although it was useless. He squeezed his hands more tightly together, still caught behind his back, and sucked faster.

“Miya.” Sakusa’s hand pulled tighter in his hair. It stung, and Atsumu sighed a moan. “I’m getting close. Pull off.”

Atsumu made a sound under his breath and took Sakusa deeper. He’d never wanted anyone to come in his mouth before, no matter how turned on he’d been in the past, but he wanted it now. He wanted anything from Sakusa that he could get.

Sakusa gave another weak tug at Atsumu’s hair, but gave up when Atsumu refused to move. He leaned his weight back on both of his hands, knees spreading a little wider, hips rocking up toward Atsumu’s mouth in unsteady little jolts. “I should have expected that,” said Sakusa, his voice strained. “You’re disgusting.”

Atsumu moaned, and his cock jumped in his shorts. His face and neck and chest burned. If he’d been in a normal state of mind he may have been embarrassed that he was this weak to Sakusa, this weak to words that should have been an insult, but he was so far gone that he couldn’t care. His hips rocked against empty air as he went down on Sakusa, lips squeezing tight, sucking until Sakusa’s cock pulsed on his tongue. The first spurt of come sprayed down the back of his throat, and Atsumu swallowed around Sakusa’s cock so he didn’t choke. He kept working his tongue, kept sucking, until his mouth was so full that come drizzled from the corner of his lips, dripping down his chin. Atsumu swallowed again, licked the tip of Sakusa’s cock until he twitched away, and sucked it clean as he pulled off. He gasped as it popped out of his mouth, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue. It might’ve been unpleasant, if he’d been with anyone else.

But he was with Sakusa, and everything was good with Sakusa.

“ _ Fuck _ , Omi.” Atsumu’s breath came short, so heavy that he was almost panting. His hips rocked forward again, seeking relief and finding nothing. “That was hot. That was real hot. Shit.”

Sakusa’s stare was on Atsumu, dark and hazy and a little unfocused. His mouth was open, and Atsumu wanted to push him back on the bed and kiss him, wanted to hold him down and lick into his mouth and grind against him until he came in his shorts.

But Atsumu stayed where he was, his cock throbbing, his thoughts a heated, scattered mess.

Sakusa sat up straighter, shifting the weight off of his hands. He tucked his dick away, rose just high enough to yank his jeans up, and sat back down. His eyes didn’t leave Atsumu’s, not for a second.

“Pull your shorts down,” said Sakusa. His voice was husky, still a note deeper than usual.

Atsumu was desperate enough that he almost ripped his shorts off and flung them across the room. But he took a breath, pushed up on his knees, and slowly dragged the elastic band of his shorts down his thighs. His cock bounced free, and Sakusa’s eyes dipped down.

“You’re that hard,” said Sakusa, “and you haven’t even been touched.”

Atsumu swallowed. His mouth tasted of Sakusa. “With you lookin’ like that, I don’t need to be touched.”

Sakusa’s stare went a little sharper, and impossibly darker. “Get yourself off. I want to watch.”

Atsumu’s cock twitched. “Why?”

“I like watching you. Do I need a reason?”

Atsumu bit down hard on his bottom lip. It did nothing to muffle his moan. He took his dick in his hand, spread his knees, and gave himself a long, slow stroke. His hips stuttered and he gritted his teeth, refusing to come after one single touch. He released himself, held Sakusa’s gaze, and licked a wet stripe from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger. The next stroke was smoother, and another moan swelled in Atsumu’s throat. 

Sakusa didn’t move, but still he felt closer. Maybe it was the weight of his stare, stuck to the quickening pull of Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu imagined what it would feel like to have Sakusa’s hand on him instead, those long fingers curled around his cock, with Sakusa’s breath hot in his ear as he jerked him off.

Atsumu choked on a moan, and Sakusa said, “Open your eyes.”

Atsumu hadn’t realized they were closed. An exhale hissed sharp between his teeth as he looked up at Sakusa, his fist still pumping, every muscle in his body clenched against the impending orgasm. 

Sakusa leaned forward, just barely. He took Atsumu’s chin in his hand, tilted his face higher, and said, “Look at me while you come.”

That was the trigger, and the shot went straight to Atsumu’s cock.

His hips kicked up and he came across his hand, spraying onto his t-shirt, the stickiness spreading between his fingers. He kept stroking himself, chasing the hot edge of the high, a ragged moan dragging between his lips. Sakusa didn’t let go of his face and Atsumu didn’t look away from him, even as the last pulse of his orgasm faded, and his eyelids grew heavier, and he realized just how hot his cheeks were.

A moment passed, then two. Atsumu’s knees hurt, but he didn’t move, didn’t dare.

Sakusa sat back, and his hand fell away from Atsumu’s face. He pushed it through his own hair instead, sweeping a dark curl away from his forehead.

“You should shower,” said Sakusa quietly. “You’re a mess.”

Atsumu blinked and finally tore his gaze away from Sakusa. He looked down at himself and almost cringed. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.” 

He stood up, his knees aching, and yanked his shorts up. He took a step away, but Sakusa said, “What are you sorry for?”

“Uh.” Atsumu gestured at the wet patches soaked across the front of his shirt. There would be one at the front of his shorts soon too, if he didn’t get them off again. “For this, I guess. I know you think it’s gross.”

Sakusa stood. He was perfectly put together, as if nothing had happened at all; the exact opposite of Atsumu. “I asked you to do it.”

“Well yeah, but I should’ve been… I dunno, cleaner about it somehow.”

“Miya.” Sakusa took a step closer, hesitated, and took one more. He kept himself away from Atsumu’s messy clothes, but reached out to touch his face again. Atsumu was drained, but still his stomach gave a weak little lurch. “I know it’s difficult for you, but stop being an idiot.”

Atsumu’s nose scrunched. “You shouldn’t be mean to the guy who just sucked your dick.”

Sakusa’s expression suggested he wanted to say something. It was in the downturn of his mouth, the cut of his brow, the slight narrowing of his eyes. But he sighed, and leaned in – carefully keeping his body from touching Atsumu’s – and pressed a quick, chaste kiss at the edge of Atsumu’s mouth. “Go shower.” He let go of Atsumu’s face and turned away. “I’ll wait for you on the couch.”

Atsumu watched him go, his cheeks warming all over again. He didn’t know if they would ever return to a normal temperature, as long as Sakusa was around. He smiled to himself as he went into the bathroom, peeling his shirt over his head and wincing as he accidentally smeared come all the way up his chest. He almost called out an invitation for Sakusa to join him, but kept the words to himself. He’d gotten enough, more than he could have expected. He wouldn’t push his luck. 

And even better, the day wasn’t over yet. Sakusa hadn’t left. He was still there, still waiting, still willing to spend time with Atsumu.

Atsumu cranked the water hot, his grin insatiable. 

Next time he was at the corner store, he would buy the biggest box of condoms they had; just in case.


End file.
